Page 74 of Sexting the Single Pakhan

Chapter Twenty-One

Leonid

I pace the length of my office, phone pressed to my ear, mid-conversation with the contractor about the warehouse expansion, when my burner buzzes twice—a short, urgent signal from Sergei's rotation. I ignore the contractor's droning about timelines and costs, mutter a "hold," and switch lines.

"Boss," Sergei's voice cuts in. "Ms. Harper left the school early. She’s headed home now. She didn’t look well."

My gut twists. She's been off since the gala, dodging my questions about what's been eating at her.

"Stay on her building. Report if she leaves again." I hang up, end the contractor call after rescheduling for another time, and grab my coat. The elevator ride down feels too slow; my mind races through worst cases. Is she sick again?

I call her as the car peels out into traffic. It rings three times. Four. She picks up on the fifth, and the sound that hits me first isn't her voice, it's a choked sob, muffled like she's trying to hide it.

"Laurel." My knuckles whiten on the wheel. "Baby, what happened?"

Nothing. Just ragged breathing, a wet sniff. Then, broken: "Leonid?"

"Where are you?" The city blurs past, red lights be damned.

"Home." Another sob rips out, raw and defeated.

“What happened? Why aren’t you at work?”

“I…” she starts sobbing again.

"Baby, I'm on my way, what’s going on? Talk to me."

She hangs up. I slam the phone down, jaw locked so tight it aches. Ten minutes later, I burst through her building door.

The apartment is dim, blinds half-drawn. She's in the living room, curled on the armchair like a broken thing, knees to chest, staring at nothing. Eyes red-rimmed, swollen, tracks of mascara streaking her cheeks. My chest cracks open at the sight.

I cross the room in two strides, drop to one knee in front of her, hands framing her face, thumbs wiping tears from her cheeks. "Solnyshko. What the fuck happened?"

Her chin wobbles. Fresh tears spill.

I pull her into me, arms banding around her small frame. She clings, fists bunching my shirt. I scoop her up and carry her to the couch, settle with her straddling my lap, her face buried in my chest.

I hate this. Hate seeing my sunshine shattered. It breaks shit inside. My hand strokes slow circles down her spine, other palm cupping her nape. "Let it out, baby. All of it. I've got you."

She does. Minutes stretch, sobs turning to hiccups, body going limp against mine. Finally, she lifts her head, eyes puffy, lashes clumped. "Sorry. I—"

"Don’t. Never apologize." I cut her off, thumb sealing her lips. "Not for this. Not for being real with me."

She nods, wipes her nose on her sleeve. Swallows hard. "They... I got fired."

Fury ignites inside me. "When?"

"This morning." Her voice cracks again, but she pushes on. "Aria, one of the teachers, saw us at the gala. Snapped a photo of us together. Created a new staff group chat last night and posted it there. By morning, everyone knew. The principal called me in, said it's a conflict of interest, inappropriate. They think I came onto you. I'm done. Cleaned out my desk today."

"The colleague who took the photo, what’s her surname?"

"Aria Smith."

Aria Smith. The name clicks instantly. I’ve had a few business dealings with her father in the past, and he tried to matchmake us, which I bluntly declined. But Aria never seemed to take the hint, because she always threw herself at me every chance she got. She must have been pissed when she saw Laurel and I together. She made my baby lose her job.

Laurel searches my face. "Leonid, promise you won’t get involved in this."

“Baby I can’t…”